


Chasing Starlight

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: M/M, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrenaline and lunch on an ordinary day aboard the <i>Enterprise</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Starlight

Title: Chasing Starlight  
Fandom: Star Trek XI  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu  
Summary: Adrenaline and lunch on an ordinary day aboard the _Enterprise_.   
Content Advisory: Slash, an obstreperous captain.  
All Thanks To: [](http://lomedet.livejournal.com/profile)[**lomedet**](http://lomedet.livejournal.com/) for alpha reading and grit kitty for beta reading.  
_Disclaimer:_ None of these characters or their settings belong to me.  
Title from "Starlight" by Muse, which really is such a song for this pairing.

As much as any day on the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ can be considered ordinary, this looks like an ordinary day. The viewscreen in front of Lieutenant Sulu is streaky with Warp 2. From the corner of his left eye he watches the ticking countdown to Lesath Three. To his right Ensign Chekov's fingers fly across the Navigation console as he calculates the optimal routes through the Lesath system, working from orbital projections of the major and minor cometary swarms. They'll arrive in -- Sulu checks -- 6 minutes and 22 seconds, so until Chekov sends over the flight paths he doesn't have much to do.

Hikaru sneaks another rightward glance, looking for a hint of his Pavel, but the young Ensign is typing diligently, his forehead creased with concentration. He should do as much, Sulu reminds himself, and checks the long-range sensors again. Nothing's out of the ordinary, but... '_Expect the unexpected_' he remembers, in the dry crisp cricket-voice of Commander Kaffaljidhma, his favorite flight instructor, so he looks over the mission parameters again as well. Fifteen years ago the close pass of another star disrupted Lesath's Oort cloud, so now the _Enterprise_ will take some measurements of the effects on the uninhabited planetary system. From here everything seems roughly unchanged, all five planets still where they belong, though Lesath Four's position looks a bit smeared, probably by nearby comets. Sulu makes a mental note to ask Chekov for a more detailed system map later.

His console beeps with the finished routes. "Thank you, Ensign," Sulu says, and gets a professional smile and sharp little nod in return. He doesn't grin proudly -- Chekov was exceptionally competent before they ever met -- but he does have to look down at his console to keep his own face calm. Less professional than a kid, he thinks with wry amusement, but his conscience reminds him that's not accurate or fair. No one on the _Enterprise_ knows better than he does that Pavel Andreievich Chekov isn't a kid.

Forty seconds out, and Sulu's heart beats a little faster. Time to fly. "Captain, thirty-five seconds to arrival," he says, turning around.

Kirk nods acknowledgement. "Very good, Mr. Sulu. Count it down."

One more check of the routes, and at ten seconds Sulu folds his fingers around the tiller. "Arriving at Lesath Three in five, four, three, two, one--"

_Well, shit._ The viewscreen is full of jagged rocks. They're not beside Lesath Three, they're inside the debris field it's been reduced to, still so compact and crowded it registered as a point mass on the long-range sensors. A gasp runs around the Bridge, but Sulu and Chekov are already responding, modulating thrusters, implementing an evasive pattern. Sulu tilts the _Enterprise_ towards Lesath's blue light, shining through the one reasonably sized gap; Kirk's "Yellow alert," overlaps with Chekov's "shields at full strength, Captain!"

Not a second too soon. A rock caroms off the port nacelle, jarring them all in their seats, the impact flashing on Sulu's 3D grid. They're still turning evasively, but a dark shape drifts into their path, blobby and black with dark red crevices, even more ominous than the jagged rocks. "3800 degrees," Chekov reports, and Sulu knows they're looking at the same fragment.

For the moment Chekov can handle the one ahead. Sulu concentrates on slipping the _Enterprise_ between the rocks alongside, thruster bursts and turns as he follows the course corrections Chekov sends him. "Aye, Captain, phasers armed," Chekov reports, sharp-voiced and calm as the alarm blares.

Several fragments tumble towards them from the rear. _Enterprise_'s own gravity might be perturbing them, Sulu doesn't know. What he knows is how to evade them, up, right, forward. But they still need to get through that gap to survive this -- another collision, someone falls heavily behind them and Sulu barely hangs onto his seat, and shields are down to 73%.

"Fire, Mr. Chekov," Kirk orders confidently, and Sulu sits on his private worries about whether phasers can clear a massive molten fragment like the one ahead. The first burst just makes it glow brighter red, but then the mass separates along the seam of the second burst and Sulu can duck the _Enterprise_ into the gap. Fragments ping and spark off the shields, but they get through.

It's not much better on the other side, fragments as far as the visual field extends, but at least they're spaced a few lengths apart instead of barely one. There are little suppressed sighs of relief behind them, and Sulu wants to slump in his chair and exhale the tension in a sigh of his own. He doesn't, of course. "Nice work, gentlemen," the Captain tells them.

"Thank you, sir. We're not out of this yet, though." Sulu pulls back the 3D to a wide view, and the full debris field is an ellipse roughly 80 times the size of the original planet, with the _Enterprise_ just off center. They're actually heading deeper, but the shortest ways out are back through the crowded patch where they arrived, so Sulu keeps their current general heading.

"So I see," says Captain Kirk. "Ensign Chekov?" The fragments surrounding them now are cooler as well as further apart, mostly around 75 degrees. Just their luck to arrive where they did.

Sulu concentrates on piloting, evading another fragment just in time, as he listens to Chekov explain their predicament. "Lesath Three and Lesath Four are destroyed, Captain, I calculate in last 200 hours. Cometary activity four point two eight times higher than predicted." Sulu notes with one spare neuron that Chekov's accent has thickened a bit. "Lesath Two and Five appear still intact."

"Hello, fireworks." Kirk hums thoughtfully. "Lay in a course for Lesath Five, inform Astrometrics to look ahead -- we don't want any more surprises if we can help it. Then assist Lieutenant Sulu in getting us out of here."

"Aye, Captain." Sulu follows the course Chekov sets, with his own occasional adjustments; when he can look up for a second he glances over just as Chekov looks at him, and their eyes meet. His Ensign has a firm set to his jaw, hectic red patches high on his pale cheeks, and huge shining eyes, and the smile they trade is maybe a little warmer than professional.

Then they get back to work.

************************

 

One hundred eighty seven minutes of variously intricate piloting later, the _Enterprise_ is in position by Lesath Five, shields boosted and Astrometrics on comet-watch. The view's kind of spectacular, actually, as well as deadly; comets tumble inwards towards Lesath in streaming clumps, moving ten times faster than usual. Chekov's estimation on Lesath Four's destruction has been revised to six months ago, and since a third of its mass is missing he hypothesizes that some of its fragments destroyed Lesath Three.

Also, Chekov still has those bright red cheeks in an otherwise paper-pale face, and he's trembling very slightly. But his voice is steady, his telemetry is flawless, and Sulu has a ship to fly.

When Silverman and Xanath arrive to relieve them, Captain Kirk waves Chekov over. "I need you in Astrometrics. Take a half hour for lunch first. Mr. Sulu?" Sulu looks up from arranging his displays for Lt. Xanath. "Make sure he eats?" That broad wink is all Jim.

"Aye, Captain," Sulu says, poker-faced, and doesn't look at Chekov until they're off the Bridge.

In the corridor he can roll his eyes, and watch Chekov stride ahead of him, fast and steady, controlled enough to please Commander Spock. But if he knows Pavel as well as he thinks he does --

Chekov drops back, their shoulders brushing as he says quietly into Sulu's ear, "Conference Room 212-A." Good choice, a break room equipped with a sink and food synthesizer, if also two doors. Pulse pounding in anticipation, Sulu nods briefly and follows him there, locking the doors with a word to the computer. When he turns to the room Chekov's back is to him, and there's a moment when Sulu thinks he might have miscalculated.

Then his Pavel swings around smiling, arms out, and Hikaru gets just one step from the door before they slam together, Pavel's hands tight on his shoulders. The kiss knocks what's left of his breath out of him, or maybe that's the door hitting his back. Hikaru gasps through his nose with Pavel's mouth hard on his, Pavel's fingers in his hair, Pavel flattening him into the door, writhing against him, eager and alive.

Pavel feels so good, familiar angles and ropy muscles, the soft warm skin of his back when Hikaru slides both hands up beneath his shirt. He feels incredible, teeth sharp on Hikaru's bottom lip, wet warm tongue soothing the throbbing bite, holding Hikaru's head still to absolutely ravish his mouth. Hikaru's blood surges with all the adrenaline of the last three hours, with the current running through Pavel's slender body, and Pavel's eager moan reverberates through him straight to his dick.

Hikaru's completely breathless when they have to break off, gasping and staring at each other. Pavel's lips are already bruised red, and Hikaru's throbs like it's swelling up; Pavel reaches up to touch it lightly, his eyes round and luminous beyond his hand. Hikaru briefly thinks about how everyone who sees him this afternoon will know how he spent his lunch break.

Pavel's fingers slip into his mouth, slender and trembling on his tongue, and as he sucks on them Hikaru decides he doesn't care if the whole ship knows. "Hi," Pavel says, sounding a little dazed, and Hikaru grins around his fingers. "Ah, adrenaline?"

Hikaru laughs, nodding as he gently bites down, and Pavel yanks his fingers away with a yelped, "I need those!" He cracks up too, still laughing as Hikaru kisses him again, sliding his arms around Hikaru's neck, fingers into his hair. Hikaru frees one hand from Pavel's shirt to sink it into his curls, the other flat over his winglike shoulderblade. He pushes into the kiss, thinking about tilting Pavel's head back, but Pavel does something wicked with his tongue that makes Hikaru gasp and shudder, his thighs trembling.

Pavel chuckles and does it again, and the firm wet caress makes Hikaru's knees seriously threaten to melt out from beneath him. The mental image of falling to his knees for Pavel both makes his cock throb and gives him an idea, so Hikaru slides a foot forward, pulling his other hand off Pavel's skin to push lightly on his upper arm. Pavel mutters indistinctly, pressing his mouth to Hikaru's as if sealing them together, but he takes a step back, then another. Eyes closed and distracted by Pavel's tongue in his mouth, Hikaru manages to walk them three infinite steps to the table without either stumbling. Because he's just that good a pilot, he thinks, bending to keep kissing Pavel as he fumbles a chair out and Pavel sinks into it, clinging to Hikaru the whole way.

He's that good, and Pavel makes him that much better. They have to break the kiss when Hikaru sinks to his knees; Pavel grips his hair, not quite pulling, and Hikaru stares up at him, red cheeks vanished into a rising flush, eyes gleaming above his exhilarated smile. "I like adrenaline, I think," Pavel says, and Hikaru laughs helplessly, pushing up to kiss him again.

Lips tingling under Pavel's moving mouth, Hikaru concentrates enough to get Pavel's pants open. Lifting his hips to help, Pavel does this little twisting shimmy that makes Hikaru's fingers twitch towards his skin, but he hangs onto himself and Pavel's pants, easing them halfway down his thighs before he judges it far enough. Hikaru slides his hands back up those thighs, petting bare hot skin sparsely scattered with hair, squeezing the hard sleek muscles beneath, and Pavel moans for him, throaty and eager, leaning forward as if he's about to dive out of the chair.

Lying on the floor under a writhing Pavel would be hot, would be incredible, and would use up the whole lunch break and probably end up with Ensign Chekov getting to Astrometrics ridiculously late if at all. Hikaru lets go, with only a little difficulty, to catch Pavel's shoulders and push him back, the kiss breaking with a wet slick noise. "Stay here."

Pavel's mouth curves into an absolutely edible-looking little frown. "But your pants are not even open."

"Yeah, you're right, that's a problem." Which Hikaru fixes quickly, one-handed, still pushing up on Pavel's shoulder as Pavel leans heavily against his hold. Hikaru strokes his dick as he pulls it out, his breath roughening at the feel of his fingers, at the hungry way Pavel watches his hand move. He watches Pavel's eyes darken and hears his own voice go gravelly as he says, "This better?"

Pavel nods and lunges, grabbing a fistful of Hikaru's hair to haul him up, kissing him like a punch. Hikaru's mouth throbs, his lip streaked with fire, his scalp burning under Pavel's grip, and it's all so good he has to moan, feeling Pavel shiver against his mouth, tightening his hand around the base of his dick. Pavel reaches for him again and Hikaru barely manages to block with his shoulder, to push Pavel upright in the chair as he pulls back gasping. "No, stay there," Hikaru pants. "I'm gonna blow you, all right?"

Pavel gasps, too, looking hot and horny and more than a little pissed off. "Hikaru, let me touch you!" Hikaru shakes his head, pulling his hand off himself to wrap it around Pavel's dick, which jumps gratifyingly in his grip. Pavel shudders and groans, breathes in noisily and _keeps arguing_, his accent thickening further. "I want your mouth on me, I want my hands on you!"

"I do too,' Hikaru answers helplessly, and bites his sore lip. Hikaru wants to let Pavel jump on him more than he wants to breathe, wants to sprawl with Pavel's weight on his chest and Pavel's body filling the curve of his arm. "But if I let you climb on top of me we'll still be on the floor in an hour, when Astrometrics reports you as a no-show and someone overrides the lock." The most likely candidate to hunt them out is Commander Spock, and Hikaru's dick actually throbs unhappily at him for that thought, like it's about to wilt.

Like it could, with Pavel leaning into him, eyes blazing, voice husky. "Astrometrics can fuck itselves." Pavel smiles, narrow and cunning, and drags his fingers lightly over the shell of Hikaru's ear, tingles cascading down Hikaru's nerves. "You come fuck me."

"Oh, God, that's playing dirty," Hikaru moans, his head tipping back under the maddeningly light caress. "C'mon, Pavel, you need to eat." Much more of this and he'll happily lose this argument.

He leans in, Pavel's fresh rich scent making his mouth water, but Pavel gets him back by halting him with that hand, planted on his forehead. "And you need nothing?" Pavel asks, low and guttural.

Hikaru tilts his head enough to meet Pavel's eyes, as Pavel's hand curves to his temple and strokes down his jawline. "I need your dick in my mouth," he says, because it's true, because it makes Pavel's lips part and a deeper rosiness bloom in his cheeks, because Pavel nods and closes his stormy eyes as he slumps back in the chair.

Later, Hikaru will tease Pavel about fighting off a blowjob so fiercely. Later, when he's not sucking him down, listening to him breathe, "da, da, yes," wrapping one hand around his hip to hold him steady. He slides the other down Pavel's chest, intending to stroke his aching dick when he can stand to stop touching Pavel, but Pavel catches his wrist in a grip stronger than he really feels like trying to break. Then he has a really good reason not to, as Pavel licks a hot wide stripe up his palm and sucks hard on his fingers, licking them individually as Hikaru licks his velvet-hot dick.

Clumsily stroking Pavel's chin with his thumb, Hikaru groans from deep in his chest, heat twisting inside him, his dick throbbing all untouched. It's like a mirror, a feedback loop, as Pavel moans around his hand and he moans around Pavel. He sucks harder, as directly as he can, and Pavel bucks off-rhythm, letting Hikaru's fingers slide free for one loud moan before he gasps and muffles himself with his own hand. Hikaru wraps his freed hand around himself, thanking Pavel for wetting it by pressing his tongue to the pulsing vein up the underside of Pavel's dick, sucking steadily until his cheeks ache. Pavel's muffled and indistinct through his hand, but Hikaru can hear the way his voice tilts higher, breaking around the edges. Pavel's thigh tensing under his hand, precome salty down the back of his throat, Hikaru pushes down until his lips brush wet curls, telling himself not to choke; Pavel thrusts up again, groaning, "Oh, Hik--" and then just plain groaning as he comes, spilling hot into Hikaru's mouth.

Hikaru pulls back just far enough to breathe through his nose, suppresses a cough, and swallows. He doesn't usually, but he knew he'd have to when he thought of this, and now all he can taste is Pavel, all he can smell. He pulls off, listening to Pavel gasp over him, pressing his forehead to Pavel's damp thigh as he strokes himself roughly. It's his turn, just a few more pulls as Pavel's hands move in his hair, caressing his nape, and he comes so hard his whole body shakes with it, the pulses slowly fading to tingles through his balls and spine and randomly over his skin.

When Hikaru can open his eyes he looks down at his sticky hand, There's one splash beyond it on the floor under the chair, but at least he hasn't messed up his pants or his sleeve. He tips his head back and coughs, his throat coated and ticklish; exhilaration sings through his blood, and laughing makes him cough more but he can't help it.

Pavel laughs too, and Hikaru looks up at him, his wide smile and shining eyes, his curls sticking up everywhere. He says something cheerful in Russian, blinks, and translates, "I am never so astonished," as he leans down. Hikaru cranes his neck to kiss him while trying not to move; noticing Hikaru's immobility, Pavel looks him over, and his eyes go absolutely huge. "Ai, let me help," he says, flinging himself to his feet, swinging his leg right over Hikaru's head. Hikaru leans his forehead on the edge of the chair, warm from Pavel's body, and laughs some more, because this is ridiculous and messy and completely worth it.

Pavel returns and hands Hikaru a fistful of disposable wipes, fastening his pants as Hikaru scrubs off his hands. "I can lick that for you," Pavel offers, cheerful and unbearably sexy; Hikaru groans faintly, shaking his head, and catches his breath as he wipes the floor clean.

"How much time have we used up?" Hikaru stands up, fastening his own pants as he heads for the sink, stuffs the wipes down the trash chute and washes his hands and face. He tingles in patches all over beneath his uniform, his skin cooling off, and his sore lower lip seems not to be actually busted.

Pavel hums computationally. "Fourteen minutes and twenty six, twenty seven seconds."

"That's not so bad." It seemed longer, probably just because it was so much fun. "But your hair's all messed up, and we still need to eat. No," Hikaru adds as Pavel's eyes gleam, "tube steak is tasty, but not enough lunch."

"Still hungry?" Pavel squeezes in between Hikaru and an imaginary wall two feet from the real one. Hikaru's hands are clean, so he drapes one on Pavel's hip, hugging him for a moment as he picks Pavel's pocket for the black-polymer comb he always carries. Pavel rolls his eyes longsufferingly, and Hikaru grins back as he combs his hair, then hands the comb over so Pavel can dampen it and attack his wild curls.

Hikaru should be choosing something for lunch, but he's still a little wobbly, brain soft around the edges and sparkles drifting behind his eyes. He watches Pavel subdue his hair until it's crisply neat again, the part ruler-straight; Pavel stuffs the comb back into his pocket and tugs out his cuffs, and he looks every inch a professional Starfleet officer except for the glowing red rims of his ears.

Pavel looks so good Hikaru makes himself take a step away. He gets a quizzical look for it, and answers, "You look so neat. I just want to mess you up again."

"I want you to mess me," Pavel says, of course, closing the distance. Hikaru catches his face between both hands and kisses him softly, not letting it deepen as he skims his fingers down Pavel's arms and closes his hands lightly around Pavel's slender wrists. Slender, but strong, Hikaru feels as Pavel rotates them in his loose grip.

Hikaru looks at Pavel in front of him, eyes shut, so still he trembles, and wants to kiss his eyelashes, the angles of his cheekbones, his mouth for approximately forever. Instead he sets his own mouth lightly against the shell of Pavel's ear, letting his lips just brush it as he murmurs, "Tonight, okay? Can you wait for tonight? Because we'll both be off shift, and after you get done beating everyone at chess, I'll come find you in the rec room and we'll go back to my quarters." Pavel exhales a long shuddering breath, and Hikaru keeps going. "We'll take everything off, you'll lie on my bed, and I'll touch you everywhere. I'll bite all your freckles, lick your throat and your nipples and your inner thighs." Pavel makes a gorgeous little strangled-off noise, denting his lip with his teeth. "When you can't stand it anymore I'll fuck you, nice and slow, because we'll have all night. Or if you want to, you can fuck me. I'd like that, you inside me. Just as long as we take it slow."

Hikaru stops himself there, because this little speech isn't being exactly calming. Pavel's breath is fast and rough, and Hikaru's skin is flushing hot all over, though they both just came. "Ai ai ai," Pavel grumbles, pressing his warm cheek to Hikaru's, "I am hard again, and it is all your fault." He twists his hands free and grabs Hikaru's upper arms, shoving him back a step, and Hikaru grins unsteadily. "Yes, tonight. We will do all that, and more, again and again until we cannot move."

"Tonight," Hikaru agrees, then makes himself pay attention to the food synthesizer before he orders shoe polish or something Bolian. "Right now, what do you want for lunch? Besides the obvious."

"You choose," Pavel says, dropping into a chair, swinging his legs over the arm. "You choose, I cannot think."

Hikaru thinks about how Pavel melts his brain just as much, but only says, "Okay, then." He punches in two beef burritos -- mild for Pavel, with jalapenos added for himself -- and some green tea because it's the least tinny-tasting drink from the synthesizer. Pavel's eyes light up at the food, and he swallows a third of his before Hikaru's had two bites. "Told you you needed some lunch."

Pavel glares, though the effect's kind of ruined by the burrito stuffed halfway into his mouth. Hikaru snickers at him and eats steadily, feeling every second passing. They finish with two and a half minutes to spare, and Pavel slurps the last of his tea, leans over the table, and kisses Hikaru as thoroughly as he can using only his mouth. He tastes like tea and salsa and his own warmth, and Hikaru has to grab the edge of the table to keep from reaching for him.

When Pavel leans back, Hikaru lets himself raise one hand to trace the sharp line of his jaw, and Pavel's smile is as warm as sunlight. Hikaru can't get enough of that smile, whether it's focused on a vast nebula, a fascinating physics problem, or, most incredibly of all, on him. However, they've got maybe a hundred seconds left, barely enough time to reach Astrometrics at a run, so he takes a deep breath and lightly pinches Pavel's chin. "Computer, unlock doors. Get going, Ensign. You're needed in Astrometrics."

"Yes, sir," Pavel says brightly, standing straight. He salutes crisply, and Hikaru watches him leave, takes a deep breath, and clears up their lunch, thinking about everything Lieutenant Sulu needs to do that afternoon before they can have their night.

Less than ninety seconds after Ensign Chekov left, the door opens and Captain Kirk pops in, widening his eyes in well-feigned innocence. Sulu doesn't let himself groan, but apparently he can't keep the accusation out of his eyes, because Kirk throws up his hands and says, "Total coincidence, Lieutenant, really. But..." He comes closer, peering until Sulu's face prickles under his stare. "What the hell happened to your lip?"


End file.
